


Not An Athlete || Lance Tucker x Reader

by Fatbottombarnes



Category: The Bronze (2015)
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Lance Tucker actually is called Lancelot pass it on, Lance Tucker doesn't give a fuck, Lance Tucker fucks, Lance Tucker hates himself, Lance Tucker hates you and me but it's fine lmao, Lance Tucker is an asshole.fact.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:27:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22670971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fatbottombarnes/pseuds/Fatbottombarnes
Summary: A summer job that just stuck. A summer job that pays well.Is it worth it when it's working for Lance Tucker, the most obnoxious man to walk?Of course, only because he has no idea you exist... that is till an incident occurs.Now you just can't seem to shake the guy. Now you're fake dating him because of his parents. God, now you've gotta form an elaborate plan to break up on a holiday getaway with HIS FAMILY! He's paying you, but not enough cause you're falling for him. Bad.
Relationships: Lance Tucker & Reader, Lance Tucker/Original Character(s), Lance Tucker/Original Female Character(s), Lance Tucker/Reader, Lance Tucker/You
Kudos: 23





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> An old fic of mine that I deleted but decided to repost on here. Hope you enjoy x

**One Year Ago:**

“Do I have to?” You asked with a small edge of a whine at the end, your parents both looking a little less than pleased with your reaction to the news. “Why can’t we all just admit that I’ll never be good at sports or an athlete, and move on?” You asked. 

Your parents are Athletes, Olympic athletes to be exact. Whilst that is great, they wanted to continue that amazing legacy with you!

Your mother is a famous gymnast, winning silvers and medals alike. Despite never winning gold, she’s a national treasure, she won over the hearts of millions in her prime. She still is very well known, often called up to coach young, aspiring gymnasts. She even wrote a book about her life, including baby photos of you - embarrassing, to say the least. Then there’s your dad, Olympic ice figure skater. Winning bronze in singles but in pairs with his partner? They got many golds and silver. A national icon, he’s a judge for figure skating at the Olympics now after retiring once you were born, leaving with one finale gold. 

They met at some party, some swimmers invited a load of athletes. Apparently it was love at first sight, they’ve been together since then, becoming a sort of Olympic couple that people know and love. Here’s where things get… bad. They obviously wanted you to carry on their legacy, no matter what sport you were thrown into… you never picked it up. You are Bambi on ice, you can’t bend that way and you hate swimming, with a passion! That didn’t stop them, you had to endure so many fucking sports as a child. It wasn’t until you were sixteen that they officially stopped. 

Now out of school at eighteen, fresh and ready for the world, they unload more sports shit on you. You can hardly believe them, you excelled in art and English, also music but they were still force-feeding your sports stuff. They wanted you to take a job during the summer, involving working as some athlete’s personal assistant; he’s on his way to winning loads of golds, needs all the help he can get. 

“We just want you doing something!” Your father exhaled, “you’ll earn money, it will good on CV’s plus university applications. Who knows, you may enjoy this side of sports!” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, he’s always the voice of reason. 

Your mother wrapped an arm around your shoulders, smiling at you. “Sweetie, it's just for the summer.” 

They hooked you in. They knew you needed the money since only a few weeks ago you had the whole;  _ “I'm eighteen and independent, I don't want your money!”  _ Now here you are, needing money and they do gracefully offered this opportunity for you. It's like they knew you were going to have the whole independency speech, they were waiting for it. 

You gave a gentle sigh of submission, your father grinning as your mother hugged you. “ _ Just  _ the summer.” 

If only it was  _ just  _ for the summer. The few months job turned into… well, now. You had been hooked into working there for a year, whilst studying online at university.

**NOW**

The job was actually easy, it still is. You are nicknamed “water girl” in the golf, basketball and tennis community, in gymnastics, it was given a fancier name; personal assistant. Full intents and purposes, you got towels, food, and water plus any other requests the athletes need. Pretty darn simple, especially for you. 

Cindi, Lance Tuckers, the previous assistant had left strict guidelines and time schedules to follow. Saying that if done correctly every day, he'd never even know you exist. She had been working for the athlete for around two years, he doesn't know her name or what she even looks like, just knows that a bottle of Figi water is left on a bench at 6:45 am to start his day. So, you did exactly how she wrote it. Lance none the wiser to your existence.

He may not know you exist but you know he does, hard not to when you sit on the bleachers of the gym, writing on a laptop (for university) and watching practice on a pommel horse. You know of the infamous Lance “ _ The Fucker”  _ Tucker, he's won silver and gold alike. He's talented, handsome and also an asshole. The way he walks around, sleazy and just disgusting but… he's good at what he does so, no one bats an eyelash- well except those young gymnasts. 

“No, Brooke you don't understand you have to follow these steps  _ exactly  _ how they are,” you insist to your friend, who also tends to a gymnast. “I've gone a year without socializing with the guy, he doesn't know where the water comes from. It just shows up. I need it to remain that way whilst I get my degree!” 

Brooke rolls her eyes, “I have my own gymnast to take of,” you puppy eyes her and she cracks. “Fine. I'll see what I can do, I'll try and do it exactly how Zeus wants.”

“Thank you, thank you.” You kiss her cheek and she just laughs. 

“Just ace the fucking test, okay?” You nodded. 

“Do you need me to run over the schedule again?” You asked she nodded once despite having it written down in her own locker. “Okay, 6:45 am, you'll place a bottle of Figi water on the bench beside the Rings, along with 5hr protein. Then at 9:05 am another bottle of water, Avion will be placed at the pommel horse, essential includes a towel also. At 12 pm his lunch, it arrives but you  _ have  _ to check for anything he doesn't like; mayonnaise, pickles and any red meat. Rectify in kitchen, I've left the chicken in case they put beef- they're idiots for fucking it up sometimes.” Brooke has raised eyebrows, “a smoothie to go along with it plus, protein shake and bottle of water. Sometimes his coach will make requests, he never does. Whenever the water bottle gets half empty, grab another one. At 4pm bottled water, chapstick and towel.”

“Chapstick?” 

“He likes his lips moisturized? I don't know, it's a requirement I've been filling since Cindi,” you shrugged never really delving into Lance Tuckers chopstick situation. 

Brooke chuckled, “do you go home with him or something? How does he survive without you?” 

“No,” you rolled your eyes, “I get it, he has to focus on routines and training. It's easier to have someone collect water plus other things for you.” Brooke huffed but nodded. 

“You just do a lot for a guy who doesn't know you exist,” she shrugged, “Rachel, at least knows my name and speaks to me herself.” 

Brooke, was fortunate enough to have a nice, sweet girl as her athlete. “Yeah but it's Tucker, I don't expect anything less than what I get now which is… nothing.” She nodded in agreement, “plus you were blessed with a newbie, she has years till she develops a god complex.” 

**Next Day**

Lance Tucker P.O.V

Lance walked into the gym at exactly 6:40 am, his fingers typing quick texts to a few of his ‘friends’ before he settled the phone on vibrate and placed it in the side pocket of his gym bag. Walking into the men’s locker, placing his bag in the same locker he had been for years now, obviously the locker number 1. 

He walked into the actual gym and headed straight for the rings, as always. His routine never changed when training, unless he really needed to work on something but he never had to do that, he’s been at the peak of his game for months. Lance did some basic stretches, warming himself up before starting, not even thinking twice at the fact he’s here, yet again, before his coach. Not that he ever thought he needed one. 

Dismounting from the rings he walked over to the bench, as his coach was walking in with the other male gymnasts. He reached for the Figi water taking long sips, smirking as usual. He blindly reached for the 5hr protein but his hand came up empty, frowning he looked at the bench beside him and saw nothing, odd. He  _ always _ had water and 5hr protein waiting for him. Not wanting to cause a scene over a 5hr protein… well, he’d love to but he can train without it. 

The whole morning had been a mess. Who messes up Avion water with Everest? There’s a big difference for starters, it was like someone was sabotaging his training, his blue narrowed eyes searched the gym for the culprit. He had an inkling it was Darmon, he always was jealous of Lance, he had every right to be considering he was  _ just _ a bronze winner. He was on edge as he crossed his arms, stood on the sidelines as another gymnast worked on the pommel horse. 

“Tucker, get some lunch.” His coach yelled from the mats, he nodded once and zipped up his Team USA track jacket, leaving the gym to the small cafeteria there.

He grabbed the bag with his name labeled on it, the writing looked a little off but he didn’t pay any mind to how the ‘T’ looked uniquely like an ‘F’. Walking and sitting down with two other gymnasts, Blake and Rachel, he set upon answering the neglected messages on his phone. His left hand blindly going into the bag for his sandwich, bringing it up to his mouth and chewing slowly, thoughtfully as he typed a reply.

He frowned at the taste of the sandwich. He placed his phone down, chewing as he removed the top, blue eyes glancing over the contents of his adored lunch. Mayonnaise? And is that… beef? 

“You alright there, Tucker?” Rachel, the redhead, new gymnast asked as she dug into her salad. Noting his furrowed eyebrows and face of disgust. 

Lance didn't answer back straight away. His mind drifting back to his earlier thoughts;  _ someone is trying to sabotage me,  _ Lance thought. His eyes glared up, darting across the hall which was now housing the few Team USA training here today. 

“I think someone is trying to sabotage me.” He abides to Rachel and Blake who hears and barks a laugh, earning a glare. “What's so funny, Smith?” 

It takes a while for the bulkier man with blonde hair to reply, “you're so obtuse it actually hurts.” Is the only reply he gets, “why would someone want to sabotage  _ you?” _

“Why wouldn't they?” Lance shrugs leaning back against his chair, crossing his arms and pushing the lunch away. “I'm a gold medalist,” that earns an eye roll from Blake, ignored by Tucker. “Probably, wanted to fuck up my training throw me off but they're messing with the wrong guy,” running a hand through his thick, brown hair. 

Rachel giggles to herself, earning a glare and an eyebrow raise from Lance. “For a fantastic gymnast, you really are an idiot.” She states standing up and skipping back off to the gym. 

“Have you tried talking to your personal assistant?” Blake asked grabbing Lance’s lunch and biting into it, Lance frowned. “Right, forgot. You only care about yourself and take no notice of people,” Lance rolled his eyes. “They arrange our lunch plus other requirements, talk to yours.” 

Lance still frowning but nods, standing up and patting Smith on the shoulder as he leaves to find out  _ exactly  _ who his assistant is. Which was harder than expected, he had to look out for someone he didn't even know existed, he was sure as hell that his coach left the water around. Frowning as he worked on the pommel horse, he was good enough that his eyes could quickly dart across the room and not fuck up.

That's when he noticed her. A normal girl, usually she's beside Rachel, he only knows that because Rachel insists on actually annoying him. She places water and towel down near him, does he and Rachel have the same assistant? He dismounts and stalks over to her. 

“You!  _ Girl? _ ” He snapped abruptly gaining the attention of her blonde, she raises her eyebrows and nods. “Are you trying to fucking kill me or something?”

“I'm not sure how to answer that,” she crosses her arms nervously. 

Lance scoffed. “I can get you fired,” he snaps his fingers in her face, “every day has been great and now suddenly you're slacking? What the fuck, on your period or something?” 

“Uh-no,” she frowns. “I'm not usually working for you, I'm filling in for Y/N, I work over with Rachel. Y/N is the person who takes care of you, I'm not familiar with your schedule.” She watches at the gears turn in Lance's head. 

“Well, where is this Y/N?” He fumed slightly, “I don't need taking care of, I can do just fine without her. Leave go back to Rachel!” He snapped and turns around, stalking as he grabbed his shades from his shirt and pulled them on. 

As if he needed help. He can win golds without a babysitter, he can win golds without a coach too. He doesn't need some girl placing water on a bench for his day or training, for that matter, to go smoothly. 

“I'm going home,” he snapped to his coach who just sighed and nodded. “If Y/N, whatever her fucking stupid name is, shows up; tell her she's fucking fired.”


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am copying and pasting these chapters from my docs, so any mistakes ignore them... I won't be editing these, so just make do!

You walked into work the next day, feeling pretty confident also. In your opinion, you had passed the test with flying colors. You walked in not expecting anything to be any different, why would it, you had full faith in Brooke to do this correctly. You didn’t expect her to nail everything but enough for Lance to not notice. 

You walked to your locker and smiled at Brooke, double-tracking at her sheepish smile at you. You sighed already knowing what the problem would be, this was bad, very bad. You crossed your arms and turn to Brooke, who gave a gentle sigh and gulped lightly, she looked pretty guilty. 

“How much does this job meant to you?” Brooke asked with a timid smile and you uncrossed your arms and frowned. “Tucker was pissed because I gave him the wrong water and lunch, I am so sorry. Really I feel like shit, I didn’t think he’d notice, to be honest!” 

You sighed loudly, turning to your locker and banging your head against the cold, hard metal causing Brooke to grab your shoulders and stop you. “What the hell am I meant to do? How do I explain?” You asked frantically. 

“Well, it wasn’t your fault. He can’t fire you, I think.” She shrugged lightly also giving a small sigh of her own, “I am really sorry Y/N,” you shrugged it off and turned to the door. “Aren’t you getting your stuff?” 

You looked over your shoulder, “He’s probably waiting for me to show up, why bother if I’m just gonna be fired?” She muttered a little ‘good luck’ as you walked out the door and towards the gym, towards hell! 

You timidly stepped inside, holding Lance’s things for the morning and you visibly relaxed when you didn't see anyone in the gym, beelining for the bench and placing everything down. Hopefully, you had till lunch to think of an argument, some kind of speech to persuade Lance into keeping you around. Maybe you could talk to his coach, he may have some idea of power into helping you out. 

“You must be Y/N,” whilst the voice has never directly spoken to you, you've heard that voice and know exactly who it is before even turning around. Once you do, his arms are crossed and he has a far from the annoyed look on his face, he's smirking almost as he looks you over. “Huh… you don't look like much to me!” 

You frowned wanting to know what that meant, “I am sorry about yesterday, I told Brooke what to do because I left but-” 

He cut you off. “Listen, I don't need some, random girl leaving water around for me, okay? Do you even know who I am?” 

“Lance Tucker, I've been working for you around a year now. You're a gold and silver medalist,” you speak fast and he raises his eyebrows. “I don't expect you to understand but I  _ need  _ this job, it's good pay and I'm at university, I'm sorry, really I am!” He's silent for a few seconds. “You can't fire me for my absence either,” you try. 

“Get in my way again or even slightly inconvenience me, you're gone, got it?” He glared and you nodded, he steps forward, borderline breaking personal space. “And if you think for a second I'm going to make this easy, let you off for this, you've got another thing coming. I can't fire you but I'm gonna make this so much harder for you,” he grins as a two gymnasts come in, “Great talking to  _ you _ .” 

You finally breathed when Lance walked away, you turned and watched as he started getting to train, you walked out of the gym to a very concerned looking Brooke. Explaining the whole situation, making you and her even more confused. 

“What does he even mean?” Brooke asked; you shrugged. 

“I think,” you ponder, “he's talking about making my job more difficult, now he knows he's got some errand girl, he's going to use that in the worse possible way.” You sighed out and Brooke looked even more guilty, “will you stop! I'm fine, once I graduate, I'll quit and that's not far.” 

Only, Lance wasn't kidding by making things more harder. 

He changed how he liked things after a week, the water left wasn't his favorite anymore and he switched his training schedule so, you were a little late to leave things like a towel or another bottle for him. It seemed he had talked to Sher Summers, a female gymnast, who is the females' reincarnation of him; narcissistic, mean and promiscuous. She uses her personal assistant to the full advantage.

You started to do Lance’s dry cleaning, taking it and picking it up. It wasn't too much trouble but it cut into study time, important study time. So, much so, you were cutting into your sleep to study. You also had to manage his mail, fan mail, reading letters from prepubescent teen girls wasn't fun. 

You weren't going to give up, no way, you were going to fight even if it meant doing all this tedious shit. Lance Tucker wasn't going to defeat you, you are going to take this in stride and not give in; you are going to prove you're stronger than this. Than him.

“I am so ready to give up,” you sigh to Brooke over lunch. 

Okay, so maybe, being tired and achy isn't helping with your situation. You always wondered what it’d be like if Lance knew of your existence if maybe, you’d actually be friends! You wondered if there was more to this narcissist side of him and if you’d ever see the  _ true _ Lance Tucker. 

“He’s driving me up the wall,” you frown. “Everything is wrong, nothing ever right and it’s infuriating. I’m gonna end up strangling him,” Brooke chuckled at you as she bites into her pasta. 

“I really don’t think anyone would see that as a bad thing,” she counters with a little shrug, finishing up her lunch as you chuckled, nodding in agreement with her. “I mean, I don’t think he can get any worse,” You raised an eyebrow as she shrugged again. 

If Lance heard Brooke say that he’d take it as a challenge, judging by the way he’s acting, you’d say he heard but that’s impossible considering he wasn’t even in the building when you had lunch; was he? He made you paranoid. You felt like you were being watched every second, of every day, it was torture. What’s been bugging you, you can’t explain this either, is the fact whenever you look over to him, he isn’t even standing in your direction. Lance Tucker had officially made you go insane. 

You  _ had _ to stick this out, to prove to your parents and yourself. You had pretty much proved to them, you stuck this tedious job out for the entire summer and then some, it’s not like you  _ had _ to stick around but it was for the money. Money that was helping pay rent and college tuition. If you were smart, you could save up the next few days pay and then leave, you will have enough to last; barely, till you graduated. 

**Week Later**

You were walking towards the gym when you heard someone calling out, lifting your head as you slung your laptop bag over your right shoulder. Lance was exiting a red, mustang with his eyebrows raised. 

“Wow, I didn’t think you’d show up,” he commented with a big smirk. 

“Well, some of us actually need to work and earn money on a daily basis otherwise they’d become homeless or worse,” you retorted, really not in the mood for rude behavior today. 

He chuckled and held the door open for you, you looked at him suspiciously but entered with a little nod, Lance walking right behind you with this knowing grin. It was really, deeply, unsettling for him to be smiling that way. 

“Just I find extremely odd that a girl with parents like yourself would even need to work,” you stopped dead in your track, Lance bumping into you slightly and stepped in front of you, smiling as he looked down at you. “What… really didn’t think I’d find out your last name? I didn’t believe it at first, how could I, right?” 

You were frowning. “You looked into my private record?” 

He nodded, “So, really, tell me what’s it like coming from two Olympic parents and be a huge disappointment?” He questioned, seemingly really interested in the answer. “To not be an athlete of any kind, not even Golf!” he snickered, “Wow, if you were kid, I would have cut all ties. Oh, is that why you’re in need of  _ this _ job?” 

“No, I wanted my independence. You have no right going through any of that, that’s personal,” you felt on the verge of tears. 

His amusing demeanor changed suddenly, instead he looked a matter of factly to you, nodding his head a little. “See that would work but you’re  _ not an athlete _ , you’re just an errand girl,” he shrugged lightly. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, eyes showing signs of watering because you really, really, didn’t want to hear any of this today. You nodded and looked away, not wanting to give Lance the satisfaction of making close to crying. 

“You know for a dick, you can be a real asshole sometimes,” you tell him before continuing your way to your locker. Trying to keep your composure, not wanting to let a single tear fall down your cheeks because he isn’t worth it. 

You went about your day, everything as stressful and hard, as usual. You didn’t even have the time to write a few paragraphs for your essay, it being due next week, this was the latest you had left any assignment. Thankfully, Lance was leaving early because it was a Friday and he wanted to go out and see some friends, maybe you’d be able to get a few hours of writing and sleeping in. 

So you thought. 

At two in the morning, still studying, you get a text. 

You need to come pick me up! - Unknown number. 

Who is this? - You

Who do you fucking think? Lance! - Dickhead Tucker

How the hell did you get my number? And no way, it’s 2am! - You

Like fuck you are, if you want your job still! 

You need to come get me!

As your fucking boss, - The Dickhead Tucker

Where are you?- You

Las Vegas! - The Dickhead Tucker

OMG! NO. - You

But you were already getting together your things, after this, you’re quitting! 


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again not edited. Copied and Pasted. Any mistakes, ignore them. I don't need comments on grammar or spelling, this series was written like two years ago... I'm using the earlier drafts cause I deleted the edited versions from Tumblr. So, yeah, thanks.

Your mum once gave you advice, it wasn’t exactly handy advice at the time and you didn’t really understand why she gave it to you in the first place but you still took it in, still often think about it because it’s some good advice. She once told you that if you ever have an argument with your partner, you should go for a long drive, no destination and no one else just you. It’s meant to help clear your mind, let you drive your feelings out and really think about what was said and what you want to say. You’ve done that, many times, over mostly friends but it worked. 

You can’t say it’s working well for Tucker. The closer you got to Las Vegas the angrier you become, the more irrational your thoughts got, you were white-knuckling the steering wheel as you glared at the welcome sign to Las Vegas. You have no idea how the hell Lance got your number and what possessed him to phone you, doesn’t he have friends? A girlfriend? One of the booty-calls that could’ve picked him up? 

You pulled up to Caesar Palace, it was a little much. The fountain, the valet that gave a judgemental look at your old Volvo, the outside, although grand, couldn’t compete with the interior design of the palace. The marble floors, the gold lining and decor, and the columns: it was breathtaking. You walked to the reception, oil paintings behind the gold-mirrored desk, everything just screamed pretentious but yet, it was impressive. You pulled the denim jacket you wore closer to your body, the woman grinning from ear-to-ear at you. 

“Hello, welcome to Caesars Palace, what can I do for you this morning?” Her name tag had the name ‘Sara’ on it. 

“Hey, I’m here to pick up a guest, I don’t know what room he is in or if he’s under his name,” she nodded as you looked utterly dumbfounded, “the name is Lance Tucker and he requested me for pick-up, for some reason.” She nodded as she typed onto a keyboard, looking at a screen. 

She picked up a phone just beside her and dialed a number, grinning at you as she waited for whoever to pick up the phone, it’s a few short, awkward, seconds of silence. “Hello, Mr. Tucker. This is reception calling, a guest is here for you, a young female.” You tap the counter absent-mindedly. “Should I send her up?” is the next question, “she said you were expecting her, okay, I’ll be sure to do so.” Sara puts the phone down, “he’s in one of our penthouse suites, in the Palace Tower, I’ll have someone escort you.” 

You followed a young male, a bellhop, through the building. You had only ever seen pictures of Caesars Palace, it was bigger than you expected, at every turn, there was something to look at and admire. Pools and spas, plus showrooms and obviously, casinos; no wonder Lance came all the way here. You were shown right to the door, where he swiped a key-card and let you in, telling you to enjoy your stay and left. 

The penthouse, well, it was bigger than your entire apartment. It had a balcony the size of your kitchen, bigger from where you were standing. Black marble floors, the furniture looked brand new, and it had its own kitchen; not that you expected Lance to be cooking whilst here, since they have Gordon Ramsay's bar and grill. You could see it went off in three different directions, you went left and walked down the hall to an already opened bedroom, you’d need to see how many bedrooms they had before you left. 

You pushed the door open, it was dark with the shutters down and a body was laid in bed, you assumed it was Tucker. “Tucker, wake up!” You yelled and heard him grumble his reply, a muffled ‘fuck you’ being thrown in. “No, get the fuck up, I didn’t drive all the way here for you to treat me like shit. Get up now!” You flicked the light switch, you could just see his brown, messy hair from under the plush duvets before you walked back out of the room calling his name again. 

You sat at the barstool when Lance finally emerges, eyes still half shut and squinting against the bright lights, his hair a mess and only grey sweat pants that were hanging low on his hips; how the hell were they staying up was a good question. His eyebrows were furrowed as he looked at you, he blinked rapidly as he sat on the cream sofa. 

“Why the fuck are you here?” He asked, voice still hoarse from just waking up and scratchy from whatever drinks he consumed last night when he texts you. 

You sighed with annoyance. “Of course, drunk texts, I shouldn’t have bothered. You text me asking for me to come to get you, you threatened my job.” He was still frowning before he sighed, head falling into his hands as his elbows rested on his knees. “Why did you call me? Don’t you have friends to come to get you? Aren’t they here with you?” You glanced around, looking back at the hunched over Lance. 

“You’d be the only one that would actually show up, you need your job,” he muttered, “it was an easy bribe.” He lifted his head, hands covering his mouth as he stared right at the blank flat-screen TV. “I drank a lot last night.” He sighed to mostly himself. 

You crossed your arms, “I’ll bite the bait,” he looked at you with an unreadable expression. “Why did you need me to come to pick you up, you’re in Las Vegas, isn’t this your ideal hunting ground?” His lips curved up at that comment but set back into a frown; he slouched against the back of the sofa, arms crossing over his chest. 

“...I came here for an event, it’s kind of a big deal but…” he trailed off, a look you haven’t ever seen on Lance before, well, he never really showed anything but a sarcastic asshole and smirky confident idiot. This was different, by far, it was shyness and embarrassment. “My parents are here, celebrating my father, fifty-six years of being in the sports industry.” An edge of bitterness harshened his words, he wasn’t looking at you but you could tell he felt vulnerable, exposing a side of him like this. 

“Isn’t this meant to be a fun occasion? A party?” He rolled his steely blue eyes at you, chuckling lightly at that. 

He shakes his head, “You haven’t met my parents. You hate me, you would loathe them, I can’t stand the bastard and my mum isn’t any better. I guess, last night it got to me.” It’s silent, “You should probably go. Before they get back, don’t speak of this, to anyone. Got it?” His voice is hard as he stands up, glaring at you and you nod once, following him to the door. “I’m sorry, I’ll pay for the inconvenience, really.” You raised your eyebrows smirking about to talk but the door opens, two voices amongst themselves.

You look behind Lance to the people, an older couple, looking very much like Lance. The male had greying brown hair, eyes just like Lance’s but a much sterner face, compared to this man Lance had a very gentle face; if that was possible. The woman was tall, elegant looking in her teal dress and long hair, she looked young; perhaps his sister? 

**Lance P.O.V**

“Harry, you’re up.” Lance froze on the spot at the sound of his father’s voice, he glanced to you for a moment before turning swiftly around and meeting his father’s piercing gaze. “I’ve come to collect you for lunch, your mother has arrived and insisted we all gather,” he didn’t sound to keen on the idea, not that Lance was but at least he could stand to be around his mother. 

It takes a few seconds for Lance to remember how to speak, “Uhh-yeah, it must’ve slipped my mind,” he runs a hand through his hair messily before turning back to you. “I was just saying goodbye to my...friend, then I’ll get dressed.” He nods for you to stand up, beckoning you quickly to the door before you could be roped into his messed up life. 

“And here I thought you’d changed,” Lance’s father began and made you stop in your tracks, Lance sighed heavily. “Why can’t you find a nice girl, instead of these groupies, life isn’t about alcohol and fucking, Harry.” 

“Spare me the lecture, you’re the one that cheated, not mum.” Lance snapped back, “she isn’t a groupie either, she’s… working for me,” he doesn’t have to look at you to know how uncomfortable you are, he can feel it. 

Harry Senior, shakes his head. “Hookers don’t work for you, Harry.” Lance hears you scoff at the mention of the word hooker, he wants to laugh, he’s been with and seen hookers; you were definitely not one of those. 

“She’s not a hooker, babe.” Sabrina, his new girlfriend smiles, “that’s his girlfriend, obviously. He didn’t want you to know, meeting the parents is always scary, look at how protective he got over her.” Lance watched as his dad’s posture changed, straightening his back as he glanced you over, analyzing you and Lance didn’t like that. 

“That’s quite the accusation, he hasn’t had a girlfriend in years, is she your girlfriend?” The stare he received after the question had Lance stammering for an answer, apparently, the word ‘no’ no longer existed. 

“Yes, she is.” Lance found himself saying in a moment of weakness, “I…-” he’s cut off by his dad, who walks around him and to you, extending a hand your way. 

“Harry Tucker, the third,” you look at Lance over his father’s shoulders with wide eyes, raised eyebrows and a look of shock. “This is Sabrina.” 

Lance watches as you shake his dad’s hand in silence for a few seconds, “Uh-I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” His dad nods with a smile, watching as you hug Sabrina. 

“You should accompany us to lunch,” Lance already begins to excuse you from that awkwardness, “nonsense, I insist. She must meet your mother, get dressed, we’re leaving in twenty minutes.” Harry nods before opening the door and leaving with Sabrina behind him. 

It’s silent as Lance watches the door, not really believing what had happened just now, it only becomes reality when you start yelling at him. He didn’t really have any excuse other than his dad scared the shit out of him, he could never form a sentence around him and he was always intimidated, even as a child; the way his dad would glare if he messed up, you’d think he would have become the perfect son. 

“I don’t know what just happened,” Lance admitted quickly, “he’s just really intimidating sometimes, I couldn’t think and… you should’ve left when I told you to.” 

“Oh, so it’s my fault.” You asked, E/C eyes full of rage, “I didn’t come here to play your girlfriend, Lance, or should I say… Harry!” You poked his chest firmly, he slapped your hand away with a slight glare. “Fuck, Lance, I can’t stay here. I can’t have lunch and meet your parents, this is insane. You have to tell the truth,” you panic to him. 

Lance exhales slowly, biting his lip as he thinks everything over. “Okay, listen, I can’t tell my dad I lied. He’ll give me the lecture, it’s one weekend, one lunch. I’ll… pay you!” 

“I’m not pretending to be your girlfriend, Lance Tucker.” He rolls his eyes, “you know how stupid this sounds? One day ago you couldn’t stand me, now I’m here being asked to be your fake girlfriend and get paid...this is ridiculous,” Lance crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. “How much?” 

“How much do you want?” 

Lance watches as you debate a little with yourself. “I’ve got to buy new books, at least, four hundred dollars worth.” Lance frowns, “I don’t want to ask for too much and have you laugh at me for it.” 

“I’ll round it up to five hundred, think of it has compensation. You don’t mention this to anyone, got it? Last I need is you running your mouth,” you shrug and Lance finally looks at you for real. You're in a denim jacket plus blue skinny jeans, your hair up and hardly any make-up, you’re pretty but not dressed correctly. “You got clothes with you? Like a dress?” You shake your head and he sighs. 

“What’s wrong with my outfit?” 

“Everything, you can’t have lunch with my mother and be dressed like that,” he walks off and towards his room. “I’ll have the hotel send something up, what’s your size?” He turns and looks at you, “nevermind, you’re like a ten. Do something with your hair,” he slips back into his room, hearing you follow behind him. 

******

Lance paces in front of the walk-in wardrobe doors, hearing you grumble to yourself about the dress and him, mostly him. He hated that you were roped into this, his life, it was embarrassing and humiliating. He tried, so hard, to remove himself from his home life because of his father. The man was cold, cruel and manipulative, everything that Lance tried to not be but ended up being like his mother; competitive, in every sense of the word and egotistical. 

Growing up with Harrison Tucker as a father was torture. Lance had to be like him, he had to be a great athlete, the best. Even that isn't good enough; he wins one silver amongst his many golds and instantly he’s a failure. 

“So, you’re name is Harry?” He hears your voice through the doors. 

“Yeah, after my dad and his dad, and his dad before him.” Lance rolls his eyes, crossing his arms, “It’s like some stupid tradition, my middle name is Lancelot, my mother liked it and I decided since there’s already one Harry Tucker on the scene.” He explained leaning against the wall as he waited for you. 

It’s a few silent seconds. “And the woman besides your dad… guessing, not your sister.” 

He laughed loudly. “No, definitely not. My parents divorced when I was sixteen, he was messing around with a young gymnast, of age, not that it mattered. Anyway, Sabrina is his third or fourth wife. My mum always turns up to his awards because she thinks it’s important for us to still be a family, she’s twisted that way,” He shrugs to himself, “she was always better at business relationships than actual relationships; I rarely see her outside her office,” he trails off and stares at the wall ahead. 

“That sounds rough,” he hears the doors slide open, “explains a lot about you, to be honest.” He rolls his eyes and glances at you, raising his eyebrows. “What’dya think? Will this fool them now?” 

Shamelessly he let his eyes trail over your body, he may still hate you, but he wasn’t one to pass up the opportunity of appreciating a female's body. The bodycon dress was a royal blue, off the shoulder and mid-length, it fits you perfectly, a little too perfectly. When he, finally, let his eyes drift back to yours, you were glaring a little, only making his cocky grin grow. 

“I’m setting rules,” he raised an eyebrow at that, “No getting too handsy; an arm around the waist is my limit, Tucker. I am not kissing you, ever, even being your fake girlfriend. Are we clear?” You asked sternly, he shrugged a shoulder in reply, “No, are we clear? I can leave, right now and not help you. I guess, your father already told your mother that you have a girlfriend, so are we clear?” 

“Fucking Christ, we’re good. I don’t want to kiss you anyway, even faking it.” He watched as you rolled your E/C eyes at him, brushing a piece of Y/H/C hair behind your ear. “Let’s go, they're waiting for us.” 

He leads you out of the door and to the elevators, a nervous fluttering happening in his stomach. He always got like this when having to be around his parents, it was heightened a lot more with you next to him, having anyone meet his parents was sickening. He always avoided it, never told them when he had girlfriends because they’d run for the hills; if it wasn’t because of them getting fed up his arrogant ways, his parents would chase them off. 

“I’m nervous,” you admit to him and he scoffed, hiding his own behind the facade he built. “I’ve never had to meet someone’s parents before.” He frowned and looked down at you, you didn’t look at him, eyes remaining on the elevator doors. “It’s only for lunch, I’m actually a good actor, I got an A for theatre in school.” You mainly told yourself.

“Why are you doing this?” He asked abruptly, you finally looked up at him but the doors open before you can answer, people waiting for you to walk out. He sighs gently and escorts you through the crowd and towards the outside pool, where his parents were meeting for lunch. 

The sun shines across the beautiful pool, people splashing and swimming around, more sunbathing on the loungers. His eyes land on a table by the bar, his father and mother sat, not talking as Sabrina yaps away about something uninteresting. His eyes connect with his mother's, who smiles brightly and she hadn't changed a day. She had aged, grey hairs that were mostly caused by the stress, blue eyes like his and an infectious smile- l _ ike yours _ \- he shook that thought away. 

“Lance,” she called and waved, standing up and walking to him. He met her with a hug, you trailing behind. “Look how you’ve grown,” she grinned looking at her son, “you got all my looks, I knew you would.” He chuckled at that, “I’m angry with you, by the way,” she tells him and he frowns. “I had to hear from your father that you’ve got a girlfriend. Hello, dear, I’m Erin.” He rolls his eyes as his mother pulls you in for a hug. 

“Harry wasn’t supposed to meet her, she came as a last-minute thing for me,” Lance explained, only being ignored as his mother fusses over you with a happy smile, taking your hand and leading you to the table. He trailed behind, helping both you and his mother into chairs before sitting beside you. 

It was awkward as his mother ordered more drinks, a sly comment of her drinking habits from his father, this was going to be the worst experience of his life. He was going to have to fire you after this, having to look at you after this was going to be impossible. 


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lmao again... copied and pasted. 
> 
> I didn't edit it. theres mistakes. ignore them and move along lol

Lance cast his eyes to you, you’re sipping a glass of water, buying yourself some time to think before answering his mother's question. You were a fool to think this would go smoothly, neither of you had even discussed how you’d both met or the ins and outs of this fake relationship. You could feel all eyes on you, Lance chuckled nervously and tried to think of some, easy, believable story about how he met you. 

“We met a few months back,” you piped up from beside him, a happy smile gracing your face. “Mutual friends of ours, he was training, when we were properly introduced to one another. I’m not too big on sports but I had heard of Lance Tucker,” you shrugged. “I didn’t think anything of our exchange, till he texts me, got my number from a friend. Now here we are,” you chuckled as his mother laughed. “We’re still getting to know another, it’s still a little new for me.” 

Erin nodded, holding a glass of white wine. “I’m just happy my boy found a nice girl, all those female gymnasts can be so… bitchy nowadays.” You nodded in agreement if only she knew how her son really is. “Wonderful, don’t you think, Harry?” Erin shot to Lance’s father, who was busy narrowing his eyes at you before glaring at his ex-wife. 

“So, you aren’t an athlete?” Harry deflects, looking at you once more. You nod mutely, seeing no reason to bring up who your parents are to him. “What do you do then?” 

“I go to University,” he nods slowly. “I’m studying English language and literature.” You smile as Erin makes a noise of surprise, Harry continues to stare down his nose at you before looking at Lance briefly. “After being with Lance I’ve learned a lot about Gymnastics, I know he has to keep a strict diet and he spends so, so many hours training and putting an extraordinary amount of effort into his art. I may not be an athlete but I have so much respect for all of them.” That little speech surprises just about everyone around the table, then you feel Lance slip an arm around your shoulders. 

You glance at him as he grins, “My biggest fan right here.” You chuckled with raised eyebrows, that seem to get Lance’s dad off of your back. “How have you guys been? Enough talk of us,” Lance mostly aims his question to his mother as he sips some water. 

“Well, the magazine is doing really well,” you raise an eyebrow at Lance’s mother, you didn’t know she was in the media business. “I run the magazine,  _ Hot Shot _ , it’s how I met Harry.” You raised your eyebrows, you had no idea that Lance’s mother was Chief Editor of  _ Hot Shot _ , only the biggest Sports Magazine since the ’70s. “Anyway, I’ve been wanting to ask, Lance, I think, after this win in the Olympics we should do a featurette. Especially, since it would be almost twenty-seven years after your father first was featured.” Lance chuckled and you grinned, despite everything you’ve been through with Lance, that was an amazing opportunity. 

“You should do it,” Lance frowns looking at you. “I’ve been reading that magazine since… I was interested in journalism, my dad loves it too.” Lance’s mother chuckled and nodded, you quickly closed your mouth before you could embarrass yourself further. 

“Just think about it, okay?” Lance nodded. 

Lunch was full of mostly conversation about Lance’s father's celebration here. Also, his questioning how hard Lance has been working for the next Olympics. The more you were around Harry Tucker, the more you pitied Lance. You thought you had it bad with your parents but you had it easy compared to this. It didn’t excuse his behavior but it explained it. 

“Are you staying for the celebration tonight?” Erin asked with a bright grin, standing up to hug you, you chuckle and hug her shaking your head. “Oh, honey, you should. Did Lance even extend an invitation?” She gave a displeased look to her son, who rolls his eyes. “Well, I’m extending a hand, you should come. Lord knows Lancelot will need some company.” You chuckled. 

Lance sighs. “Mum, she has a life other than me.” He tries to get you out, hugging his mother who rolled her eyes at him this time. 

“If she isn’t there I’ll be upset,” She teases before walking off and giving a final wave and going off with two of her assistants that you didn’t even know where sitting on a table near you. “It’s gold-themed,” she yells walking to the car. 

You watched as Lance awkwardly hugged Sabrina and received a handshake from his dad, you cringed at how tense Lance looked. Once both his parents had gone he visibly relaxed and led you back to the elevator, sighing as he leaned against the mirrored wall and running a hand through his hair. You remained silent through the elevator ride and to his room, where he instantly slouched on the sofa and turned the TV on. 

“Well…” Lance looked at you with raised eyebrows, “That went rather well if I do say so myself. I think I was a great fake girlfriend.” You tried to lighten the mood but he didn’t laugh. “So, your parents are shit, by the way.” He bitterly laughed and nodded at that. “Has it always been like that? Always been so awkward and tense I mean.”

He doesn’t answer for a few seconds. “No. We were a family once, well a much of a family can be with an Olympic Athlete and a Magazine chief editor as parents. People don’t understand it, it’s all I’ve known though. My dad was strict, even when I was young and competing in school Gymnast competitions; I wasn’t allowed to talk to girls or have a life outside of training. My mum was busy running a multi-billion magazine, that’s my life but I had everything still- I am grateful.” The last sentence seemed rehearsed but you nodded slowly he sighed. “When I hit sixteen I fired my own dad as my coach - he fucking hated that- and then at eighteen he was caught out and my mother filed for a divorce the day after.” He added his signature smile at the end when looking at you. 

He shrugged and looked back at the television. “And that’s why I am the way I am because my dad was fucking around and my mum didn’t give a shit if she was around or not.” You remained silent, “Wanna know what’s fucking twisted? My mum has to run her business with him because she didn’t sign a prenup, so he got half of everything off her. Then after all that bullshit, after everything, he refuses to let her buy his share. He’s fucking her in the ass and she’s letting him, and my mum still turns up to these events for me… and for her, I have to pretend I like the cunt but I want to punch him in the dick.”

You didn’t mean to but you laughed, clasping a hand over your mouth but Lance is laughing too, actually laughing with you. Both your laughter dies out and the TV fills the silence. You look over at Lance and give a little sigh, knowing this would be a bad idea but after seeing and hearing all of this, you felt like you should do this. You were always too compassionate and nice for your own good, plus after today you felt like this would be the start of some kind of friendship with Tucker.

“I’ll go to that celebration.” He snaps his head in your direction with a frown, you give a little shrug. “After hearing the sob story I feel bad having to picture you sat at the bar on your own, so I’ll go for the free drinks.” He nods slowly, “besides it’s not like I’m in Vegas every day.” 

**

“Why are we doing this?” You asked with a huff as Lance led you through the Vegas streets, he chuckled and placed his hands in his jean pockets. “Can’t I just wear one of the dressed you got sent to the room from earlier? They seemed fine.” 

Lance scoffed at you. “It’s gold-themed, people are gonna be wearing gold or something to that aesthetic.” You sighed gently, trying to keep up with his strides. “Fucking gold, he’s so pretentious.” 

“Don’t you have a Gold tattoo?” He looked down at you still somehow managing to navigate through the busy crowds. “Like...uh… the ribbon of it.” You stumbled and he smirked causing you to roll your eyes but he doesn't answer your question; you've seen glimpses of the tattoo but have heard more from locker room talk. 

He grabbed your arm and pulled you into a shopping mall, it looked luxury and hardly a place you’d ever find yourself. You frowned as he steered you towards Chanel, you looked at him as he looked determined and unfazed by the fact this would be the first time, ever, you’d be stepping into an actual Chanel store. As soon as you walked in you were hit with a sweet smell, it was pungent but… nice, almost. 

“Mr. Tucker,” An older looking woman smiled, a blonde bob cut and red lipstick, they both kissed each other’s cheek. “What can I do for you today?” She hadn’t even acknowledged you. You glance around the store beautiful clothes, bags and shoes graced the shelves and racks. This was extremely far from your Forever 21 shopping experience. 

Lance wraps an arm around your shoulders attracting your attention. “Marie, this is Y/N, and she needs a dress for my dad’s celebration party tonight. It has to be gold or with something gold,” Marie glances you over and nods. “Can I leave her in your capable hands to find something? You’ve always made my mother look the best even during her worst.” Marie gave a bright smile. 

“Well, it will be a challenge but nothing me and my girls can’t handle.” She turned and called to her employees as Lance grinned and looked at you. 

After Lance gave you a quick bye, saying he’d collect you in a few hours, you were left in a rather expensive store. You stood awkwardly in the middle of the store as four women looked at you, muttering to one another before scurrying off and flicking through the clothing racks. Marie stepped up to you, asking shoe size and various other clothing-related questions. 

“Lance has never brought a girl here,” Marie states as you sit trying on various heels. “I’m a friend of his mother's, whenever she needs a pickup, he buys her something from here; she’s a sucker for Chanel.” You look up as Marie stands with her arms crossed, “How’d you meet him?” 

You didn’t see any reason to lie to Marie, she already has you sussed out. “I-uh- work for Lance. I’m his personal assistant when he trains; it’s a long story.” Maire raised an eyebrow, you sighed with a chuckle. “Well, he drunkenly texts me and his dad thought I was a hooker, then it escalated to girlfriend and now I have to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.” She laughed and that made you chuckle, “it’s been… crazy.” You sighed. 

After trying on many, many, so many dressed you finally found one that you liked and actually looked nice; not that the other didn’t. You smiled at yourself in the mirror, it was long and sparkly, gold - more champagne than gold but it worked. You felt luxurious in the dress, you knew it was expensive, probably cost more than anything you own. If your parents knew what you were doing they’d freak out, this is some Pretty Woman shit; except you aren’t an escort and Lance isn’t Richard Gere. 

When Lance, finally, comes back for you- you were thinking he had forgotten about you- he looks at the dress bag you’re holding. He takes the bag from you, bidding a bye to Marie who also hugs you too and you head back to the hotel. 

“My mum wants you to get ready with her,” you stare wide-eyed at Lance. “She wants to get to know you or some bullshit, it’s only two hours.” He sighs with annoyance like he was surprised that you were shocked by this. 

  
**

“What am I meant to say?” You looked at Lance to his mother’s hotel room door. “What if she asks about my family? Or us? Lance, I shouldn’t do this, I’m not very good at lying!” He rolled his eyes sassily and knocked on the door, ignoring your worried eyes. 

He looks down at you, “Just wing it. Okay?” The door flies open and it’s one of Erin’s assistants, they smile and pull you in, Lance quickly stepping in before the door closes. The suite if full of people, amongst them is Erin, robe on and on the phone. She looks over at you and Lance, quickly saying goodbye to whoever was on the other end to greet you both. 

“Lance, your father wants to speak with you.” Erin smiles pulling you into a hug, you accept with a fond smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your girl. She’s getting the full Tucker treatment,” he rolls his eyes and turns. “You’re not gonna kiss her goodbye?” You freeze and look at Lance, who turns and chuckles at his mother. 

“No, I like to make her wait.” He drops a wink at you before leaving out the door, blowing a kiss before it shuts fully. 

You turn back to Erin who is chuckling lightly at her son, she takes the dress bag from you and hands it to one of her people and sits down on the sofa’s, patting the spot beside her with a welcoming grin. You tentatively sit down, an awkward smile settling on your face as another assistant sets down two glasses of champagne. 

“I know,” Erin says as she sips from the crystal glass flute and your eyes widen. “I know what Lance is like, he’s turned into a womanizer and very cock-sure.” You release a puff air and nod with a frown. “He thinks I don’t know, the persona he fakes when competing but I have eyes and ears everywhere.” She looks at you with a sly smile and you chuckle. “It made me worried that he wouldn’t find someone, that he wouldn’t be able to connect with anyone and have something special but then he introduced me to you, and I’ve got to say… my boy is hitting above the mark.” You laughed loudly at that, putting your glass on the table and trying to compose yourself. “He is, Y/N. You’re smart, pretty and I can tell, a lot like me. Independent and career-driven, Tucker men don’t like competition and independent women don’t like being told what to do. You make Lance think; you keep him on his toes and he likes that.” 

As you let her word sink in, she stands up and starts to instruct different people on what they’re doing. Most of the people in the room are hair and makeup, people who are hired to make you look beautiful. Something you hadn’t experienced, ever. You never had anyone do your hair or makeup before, it was odd but nice at the same time. 

Sat in front of the mirror as a man called, Ryan, doing your hair. Brushing through it, giving small ideas on how he wants to style your hair for the evening, all of which you loved and agreed with; allowing him to do his job, your full faith in his hands. Erin chatted away, talking about her job and occasionally asking you questions; you managed to avoid talking about your parents.

Conversation twisted onto stories about Lance as a kid, despite the fact Lance told you that Erin wasn’t around she had a few tales about his embarrassing moments. A lot of them made you chuckle, like when she found him wearing her lipstick and dress. 

“He was a good kid, very bright and full of potential.” Erin smiled, her hair being done as she looked at you through the mirror. “He was extremely close to his grandparents, he would spend all day and every day with them,” Erin wore a fond smile. “When his grandpa died, we put my mother in a retirement home and he hasn’t visited her, I think he’s too scared to.” She gave a gentle sigh, “that boy, despite his attitude wears his heart on his sleeve. What has he been like with you? Treating you well, I hope?” 

You wanted to tell the truth to Erin, she seemed genuine and lovely. “Good. Really good, I was apprehensive at first, like all new relationships. I know of his… reputation but I wasn’t going to let that cloud my judgment on Lance. Meeting you though, hearing all this stuff about him, I don’t know, it’s giving me a bigger outlook on him.” Erin smiled and nodded. “He has made my life rather difficult but that’s just Lance!” 

You both finished getting ready, you telling Erin about your time at university and your degree. It was easy talking to Erin, she made you feel bad for lying to her, for pretending that you loved Lance and that he’s nice to you. You pulled on your dress one of the assistants helping zip the back of it, eyes wide and a grin as they look at you through the mirror, you blushed a little and smiled back. 

Staring at yourself in the mirror it was like someone else staring at you. Your hair was styled and swept back out of your eyes. Your makeup was immaculate, beautiful and made your face glow, your lips stained a light nude. The dress made you feel like a million bucks, it clung to you in all the right places and made you look elegant. It was so different to how you’d dress but it was a good different; you felt pretty, prettier than you have ever felt. 

“You look like a goddess,” Erin breathed. You blushed, even more, allowing Erin to take your hand and spin you around, looking at you from all angles. “Lance is one lucky man.” You rolled your eyes playfully, finally looking at Erin who wasn’t wearing a dress or gold. “I’m not married to the man, I don’t need to abide by his stupid rules anymore.” You raised your eyebrows and chuckled. She wore a deep red dress, a thin belt around the middle and a red blazer over the top. Her hair styled to perfection and her lips stained red too, she looked glamorous and beautiful; this is where Lance gets his looks from. 

You walked down to the elevator and party linked arms with Erin. The room they rented was huge, bar and chandelier, tables and beautiful gold decorations. Everyone was dressed beautifully, models and other athletes alike were mingling. You’ve never felt more out of place than in this room. 

“You’re gonna do fine, honey,” Erin whispered, you glanced at her and she grinned. “It’s all about faking your worth around here. Bullshitting that you’re important and that you’re God's gift. Lance, is very good at it now, too well.” You slowly nod as Erin leads you further into the crowd, smiling and greeting people. “I fucking hate all of these people!” She sighed, grabbing two crystal flutes of champagne. “Lance, over here, sweetie.” Your back was facing where you assumed Lance was, sipping the champagne to find some liquid courage. 

“Jesus, fucking, Christ.” Is all you hear before turning your head and seeing Lance just staring at you.


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HI, again, copy and pasted. I'll delete comments that mention editing mishaps.

**Lance’s POV**

Lance took a deep breath before knocking on his father’s room door, he didn’t want to spend any time talking to the man but knew he had to get this conversation out of the way. The door opened, revealing the preppy (annoying) Sabrina, Lance slapped on the fakest smile he could muster as she ushered him inside. He walked through the door into the room, various people sat around sofa’s, much like the room he had left Y/N in. 

“Harry, glad you got your mother's message.” His father called and Lance didn’t even glance his direction. 

“Lance,” he corrects his father instantly. “What is it you need to speak with me about? I have to get ready myself.” Lance crosses his arms over his chest, finally looking at his father who isn’t even dressed in his suit yet.

Harry chuckled and shakes his head. “I had your suit sent here, we need to discuss urgent matters.” Lance raises an eyebrow as the suit he picked out was held in an assistant's hands, bright smile as Lance hesitantly takes it from her grasp. “I’m worried about this new girlfriend of yours, I think you need to reconsider the entire relationship. She isn’t right for you.” 

Lance frowned at the back of his father, already pouring himself a glass of scotch, somethings never change. “Is this you asking or telling me to reconsider?” 

“You’re an adult, Harrison. Besides you’ve never done as I asked or even as I’ve told. Consider this my boy,” Lance rolls his eyes at the ‘my boy’. “She’s very interested in your mother's work, knows a lot about the magazine. Isn’t it a little strange that a woman with such… intelligence is attracted to a man of your reputation? I mean, how did she even come to your life? Gradually or did she just show up out of thin air? Harry, you’re being played in a fool's game. She doesn’t like you, she likes the story she’ll sell once she’s done with you.” 

Lance stands there frowning at his father. There was no way you were a journalist or even thinking about selling a story about him. He knows who your parents are, he knows that you’re in university but then, you do need the money. You didn’t seem like the type to play him like that, although he had made your life miserable before this weekend started; honestly, he wouldn’t blame you if you sold some story on him. Plus, it’s not like him and you are actually dating, it’d be embarrassing for a while because of the fact he paid you to be his girlfriend but like every story, it’ll fade into nothing over a month.

“Y/N isn’t like that,” Lance mutters with a slight shrug. “Besides even if she did, it wouldn’t be anything new to the media to write. Women sell their sexual endeavors with me all the time.” he nonchalantly smiled as he walked to the bathroom to change. 

“You better be sure, I’d hate for you to have said something wrong or personal and for it to be plastered in the papers tomorrow.” Lance stopped short, eyes widening in slight horror. He had told you personal shit, a lot of personal shit. He gulped and looked over his shoulder to his father, who was sipping the scotch and picking a tie to wear and glanced at his son, who nodded once with a tight smile. “From one male Tucker to another, never let any woman get inside here,” he points to his chest where his heart is. “They’ll fuck you up for life, my son.” He swiftly turns away to change in another room. 

Lance got changed slowly, thinking over everything his father had said. You and him aren’t really friends, you’re only here cause he’s paying you, plus you aren’t the type of person to seek out reporters and sell something on him. You had been working for him, for a while too, you would’ve tried to get into his life way sooner than now. He didn’t care. He doesn’t care. Lance doesn’t care what you do after this weekend, this charade will be over tomorrow and then it’s back to normal life. 

He left the bathroom and sees his father waiting for him. “Is that all you wished to speak about?” 

“No, it isn’t. I just wished you weren’t so much like your mother, she ruined this family.” Harry sighed and Lance frowned, “there’s so much you don’t know, so much that should’ve been said to you but for another day, it seems.” He pulls on his suit jacket as he talks, Sabrina in a short sequin dress beside him, he glances at Lance one last time. “I had such high expectations of you.” Is the last thing he says as he leaves with Sabrina clinging to his arm and the wave of assistants following. 

Lance gives a shaky sigh and somehow manages to leave through the throng of assistants also, deciding to take the stairs because having to stand in an elevator with his father would be more torture. 

Lance watched as his father and posse walked into the celebration first, he swiftly followed after avoiding the welcoming committee. He grabbed a flute of champagne and chugged the entire contents down, placing the glass back on the tray. Scanning the room for you or his mother, he prayed you hadn’t given away what’s going on between you both; his mother was always good at weeding out the truth from people, it’s like her superpower. 

“Lance, over here sweetie.” He hears his mother’s voice call, he turns his head to see her beaming at him. Holding a flute of champagne in one hand, she always dressed well and looked good. 

Finally, his eyes drift to the body that’s standing next to his mother, back turned to him and hair in a stylish updo. A long, backless, shimmery golden dress that clung to their body perfectly and made them look out worldly. As he takes a few steps towards his mother he realizes who is standing beside his mother, his eyes widen slightly. 

“Jesus, Fucking, Christ.” Is all Lance can seem to get out, you turn to face Lance and you look even better from the front. Your makeup was immaculate, the dress from the front showed a little cleavage just enough to draw Lance’s attention; he’s a boob guy, of course, he’d notice the assets close to first. “You look gorgeous,” he smugly grins at the blush that rises to your cheeks; placing an arm around your waist, smiling at his mother who is already mingling with the other guests. “How did getting ready with my mother go?” 

It takes a few seconds for you to answer, you’re looking around the room at the sheer amount of people here to celebrate Lance’s father. “Good, really good. Erin is lovely, all we did is talk about you though.” 

“Well, that’s everyone’s favorite subject.” Lance quips and you chuckle, rolling your eyes at his underline of seriousness to that statement. “She doesn’t suspect-”

You cut him off with a small chuckle. “No, she doesn’t.” You look at Lance, his hair was slicked back and the dark tux looked good, though you wouldn’t admit that out loud to him. His blue eyes were flickering around the room, he had a slight smile but it was more of a smirk than a smile. “So, now what does one do at these events?” 

Lance chuckled, his grip on your waist tightening but he began moving through the crowd. Steering you expertly in the direction of the bar, “Well, one, such as myself, get’s a better and stiffer drink than just champagne because having to deal with a room of men like my father requires a certain level of drunkenness.” You chuckled but nodded, watching as Lance ordered some drink and the bartender making it. “You don’t want to be left alone around here, the men are like vultures. Preying on young, beautiful women who are left alone.” You raise an eyebrow to which Lance does the same. 

“Isn’t that what you do too?” You asked a certain level of sass behind your words. 

“The difference between me and them,” Lance nods his head in the direction of where his father, Harry, and his friends are loudly laughing. “Is that I take no as a no, and I don’t take advantage of drunk women nor do I go after women who are just above the age of consent mark.” He takes his drink and downs it in one. “I know that I am womanizer, doesn’t make me a good guy but it makes the best guy in this room, right now. So, I suggest you stick by my side tonight.” You nodded once, sipping your drink and letting Lance’s words settle in. 

As you both stood at the bar many people came over to speak to Lance, he kept you close as he engaged in conversation. It was odd to see Lance like this, so suited and censored in away. He laughed at the awful jokes an older man said, he shook hands and refrained from making sarcastic or rude remarks. In a way you hated it, this wasn’t Lance, well the Lance you know and are used to. 

You sat and listened to Lance’s father’s speech and thanking everyone for showing up, you tried not to chuckle at Erin who was rolling her eyes throughout the speech. She left as soon as the speech was over, hugging and kissing both yours and Lance’s cheeks. You sighed greatly watching as Lance stood a few feet away, amongst a few older men all drinking and talking, he seemed to be in his element as he talked about his successes and himself. 

“You look as bored as I feel,” a voice startled you from your thoughts, you glanced to your left as a young man sat in the stool next to you, tapping the bar for attention and ordering a scotch on the rocks. “Bryon Cassidy.” he extends a hand, you place your own in his and shake it. He has sandy blonde hair with green eyes, a gentle smile and a little taller than Lance. 

“Y/N Y/L/N,” You smile slightly. “How do you know Harry Tucker?” you asked, sipping the cocktail that Lance had ordered for you a few minutes ago before he was whisked away to socialize. 

Bryon shrugged, “I’m his son.” You widen your eyes slightly as he chuckled. “He has four other kids, Lance is just the famous one that everyone talks about, not that he minds, of course.” You nod slowly and look at Lance before looking back at Bryon, “I’m the kid from the secret family that ruined Harry’s and Erin’s marriage,” you frowned slightly at that. 

“I thought Harry was sleeping with a young gymnast, that’s how she found out.” 

Bryon laughed a little. “That’s true, but Erin was willing to stay with Harry if he promised to stop fucking around… but he then admitted to having another family in Beverly Hills, he eventually divorced both Erin and my mother.” You nodded slowly and looked at Lance, wondering if he knew all of this. “So, how much is Lance paying you?” You shot your head to look at Bryon, “Don’t play dumb with me, I am the smart brother. I know when a girl is here for Lance and not just here with Lance, two completely different things in that Tucker world.” He sighed and sipped his drink. 

“It’s not like that,” you mutter, not knowing what to do in this situation. 

“For your sake, I hope it’s just with Lance if you’re here for him. If you even remotely like him… then you’re doomed, girls that fall for Lance get their hearts broken the quickest.” Bryon tells you solemnly and you nod once. “Rich boys don’t have hearts.” He raises his drink and clinks it with your empty glass. 

You raise an eyebrow. “How do you know that? Maybe he just hasn’t found the right person, not that it’s me but I think he still has some hope, he isn’t completely lost like his father.” 

“I would know because I am one,” Bryon shrugged. “And I quote the man himself, back in 2004, ‘Harrison Lancelot Tucker will never, ever, love again.’, every womanizer has one love that led them on their path of destruction.” You furrowed your eyebrows about to ask who’s Lance was but feel an arm wrap around your waist, Bryon rolls his eyes but smiles still at you.

“I see you met the alcoholic younger brother, what lies is spouting out this time?” Lance’s voice rings through your ear. “Don’t you and your family have another life to ruin?” Lance sneers slightly, you sigh and give an apologetic look to Bryon who just grins at Lance as he pulls you away, “didn’t I tell you not to speak to any of the guys around here, they’re all useless.” 

The ride in the elevator is silent as Lance undoes his tie, uncuffing the links of the shirt he is wearing. You sigh gently as you look at yourself in the reflection of the mirror, admittedly you had fun pretending to be his girlfriend; the dressing up in fancy dresses, the champagne and luxury, it was entirely different to your life. Even growing up with your own parents it wasn’t this lavish, you had money and plenty of it but the parties, fancy dresses never came with it. 

Honestly, the fact Lance had been nice to you and opened up was also great. After how he had been treating you, you didn’t think you’d ever be friends with him but now, you could totally see yourself having a friendlier time at work. You didn’t feel so worthless around him anymore, you actually felt like somebody to him rather than just not an athlete. 

“So,” you start as you enter the penthouse suite, “you have siblings?” You ask with a smile as Lance groans, throwing his tie on the back of the sofa and taking his suit jacket off too. 

He nods unbuttoning the first three buttons of his dress shirt. “Four of them, five if you count my mother’s goddaughter.” He admits, he looks at you and you lean against the bar with a wide grin, he rolls his eyes. “Well, you met Bryon, the annoying one. Kinda still an alcoholic but he goes to those AA meetings, so I am told. James and Lucas, they’re twins, also athletes,” he chuckles at that. “Well, if you can call non-medalist athlete’s then they’re athlete’s.” You rolled your eyes at his cockiness, “And then there’s Fiona, we don’t talk about her because she has been disowned by my father for having an affair with his second-or was it his third wife? I can never remember, but she’s my favourite sibling. I believe they’re married now or engaged.” He shrugged crossing his arms with a slight smile. 

“Wow, that sounds… hectic,” you confess and he just shrugs again. “How do the holidays work? Where do you go? Who do you buy for?” 

Lance chuckles. “I’ve never celebrated Christmas or Thanksgiving, the only holiday I do is Halloween and that’s because girls insist on dressing up as my favourite, a sexy nurse.” He winks in your direction and your mouth drops open. “You really need to make your FaceBook private.” He laughs as you flip him off. “Holidays are for normal families, so my dad said. I wasn’t a normal kid and my gift was winning medals, he celebrated Christmas with his other families though, they weren’t athlete’s.” The slight bitter tone made you feel unpleasant and bad for Lance but you shrugged it off. 

“God, your life is so depressing.” You comment and he chuckles, “I mean, your childhood, I take it your life now is alright. Fame, money and women whenever you want, but before then… sad.” He rolls his blue eyes. “Thanks for sharing all this with me-”

Lance cuts you off with a scoff. “Shut up, please don’t get all sappy with me. I only shared because you witnessed everything first hand, if you hadn’t shown up we wouldn’t be having any of these conversations nor be stood here. So, thanks for coming when I text but in future, never do that again.” he points fake sternly and you nod an amused smile on your face. “Now, you should sleep, we breakfast with my mother in the morning and then you’re leaving to go home.” You raise an eyebrow, slight concern. “I told my mum you had an important Uni thing and couldn’t stay, you’re welcome.” 

“You know, when you aren’t being an asshole, you’re kinda okay.” You tell him softly before walking off to your room, Lance watched you leave, carrying your heels in one hand giving a small wave as you walk through the door and softly closing it. 

He sighed slightly, walking off to his own room but a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach told him to go knock on your door. He paces his room for several minutes, gnawing on his bottom lip till he’s sure that his usually soft lips are chapped and sore. He opens his own door again, walking down the hall towards yours and stops in front of it, sighing softly to himself and leaning against the wall opposite he stares blankly at the door. 


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get it.

You wake up, best night sleep you’ve had in months. Your dorm room bed was a little hard, and small. But this bed it was soft, so many comfy pillows and so much room; it was heaven. You stretched out, letting out a long groan. You didn’t want to get up, although you had to. Living the lavish lifestyle of a Tucker was great; like a mini vacation. You got up and quickly got dressed, walking out into the penthouse's main area where Lance was already up. 

He glanced at you from the breakfast bar, a bowl of porridge in front of him with fresh fruit and juice. You awkwardly waved, a weird nervousness creeping up into the pit of your stomach. 

“Did you want breakfast or want to leave straight away before my dad makes his rounds?” Lance asked, settling the spoon back in the bowl and shrugging with one shoulder to the breakfast cart. 

You sighed slowly, “I should get going. I haven’t studied all weekend, likely will fail if I stay any longer.” You chuckled and he nods, getting up. “No, it’s fine, I know my way out.” Lance slowly begins to sit down again, giving you an awkward smile himself. “So, what are you going to tell your parents when I’m gone?” You asked really wanting to leave but the question was in the front of your mind anyway. 

Lance sighs. “I’ll think of something, say you had an important Uni thing and then a week's time I’ll message my mom saying we broke up or something.” You nod slowly, he glances at you for a second. “Uh- I’m not very good with the whole thanking business but… you did good, handled yourself well in the Tucker world, not many can; even Tuckers themselves fail their own life. So, thank you for being my sort-of girlfriend.” 

You grinned and raised an eyebrow. “Sort-of girlfriend, what does that mean?” 

“If you was my actual girlfriend, probably would’ve fucked you, at least three-eh-four times before we break up.” You widen your eyes as he laughs, “I’m being honest, anyway, I say this as your boss… get the fuck outta my hotel room.” The playful tone can be heard through his voice, you pat his shoulder as you passed him. 

“I left the dress on the bed, I won’t have any use for it again, Thank you, Lance.” You close the penthouse door softly and leave, a heavyweight inside your chest for some odd reason. 

The drive back to your campus was extremely different than the drive to Las Vegas. You weren’t angry or upset with Lance anymore, in fact, the opposite. You had just got to experience his life and really understand why he is how he is now. None of it excuses his shitty behavior but it gives you a level field on what he had to deal with as a child. Plus, meeting one of his siblings, half-siblings was an eye-opener too. You wanted to know more, you wanted to delve deeper and really know who Lance was before he came into fame. 

You sighed loudly and shake your head, focusing on the road ahead. Maybe after this weekend, you had made some common ground with one another? That he wouldn’t treat you as badly anymore, he had to keep up appearances but he wouldn’t be mean or rude. Perhaps you could have a friendship with Tucker, maybe working for him wouldn’t be so bad.

**

You walked into the gym with a skip in your step, you placed everything where it should be and went to the bleachers to finish an assignment- as usual. Your eyes glanced up with every few people that entered, waving at Brooke when she entered with Rachel. 

Lance walked in, usual tracksuit on and hair gelled to perfection. His face was confident and determined as he listened to the coach, already holding a bottle of water and nodding at whatever he was telling him. His eyes never met yours, not even briefly, and for some reason that made you feel weird inside. You shake that away as you go back to typing, he was too focused that’s all and he has a big competition coming up soon, he has to stay focused; maybe you’ll talk at lunch. 

When lunch rolled around and Lance made no effort to speak to you, you knew something was up. It was different, things had changed and hadn’t gone for the better, he was now ignoring your existence- not that you preferred it when he was embarrassed and stressing you out, but at least he talked to you. 

“Lance,” you called at his retreating figure. “Will you stop for a second?” You yelled and he stopped, turning to glare at you, you glared right back. “What the fuck is wrong?” He grabbed your arm, tightly and pulled you roughly down a hallway that had no people. You snatched your arm away, rubbing where his hand had held you tightly. 

He places his hands on his hips. “What the fuck do you want?” He snapped, tone harsh and demanding. “I paid you, full, plus extra. What do you want?” Your heart sunk slightly at his words, so that was it? No friendship or even mutual civilness between you both? Even after everything this weekend? “Wait,” a smirk raised to his lips and curved around his pearly whites. “Did you think we’d be best friends? That’s so adorable, but no. You did me a service, I paid you for that, the only reason we’re still talking is because you work here.” He gives you a pitiful smile. “That’s so embarrassing, I’m going to go, real bumming out my vibe.” He raises his eyes and steps around, walking away and leaving you to sit in humiliation. 

How could you be so stupid to believe that lance Tucker would ever be your friend? How could you have let yourself be so naive to the situation at hand? Of course, he wouldn’t be your friend, you may have just glimpsed at his most vulnerable moment but that doesn’t many anything to him. You sighed with frustration at yourself, coughing back the lump in your throat. Don’t cry, especially over Lance, do not let him get to you, was all that was going through your head the rest of the day…

And that helped you get through the rest of the week too. 

You fell face first onto your unmade bed, sighing as you stretched your achy muscles from the long week you had encountered. Thankfully, the gym is getting cleaned from Friday to Monday, so no seeing Lance for four days. He hadn’t muttered a single word since you last spoke, he didn’t bother to glance in your general direction either and although it hurt you, you started to not care again. It was like when you first started working, he didn’t know you existed and that was fine, it is fine. 

You begin to wrap yourself in your many blankets when your dorm room door knocked. You sighed with frustration, hoping whoever it was would leave you alone but… they knocked again, and again, and again. You got, grumbling to yourself, throwing the door open to yell at some guy who wanted to invite you to the next frat party only, it wasn’t any frat guy. Lance Tucker stood at your door. 

He looked utterly frustrated, hair unkempt like he had just jumped out of bed too and his clothing attire was very casual. His right hand held his phone to his ear, he kept humming to whoever was on the other side of it before he practically shoved the phone into your hand. 

“My mother,” he mouthed and stepped around you into your room. Your eyes widen as you slowly the shut door and put the phone to your ear, breathing heavily as you looked at Lance. He sat on your roommate's bed, she was never in any way, laying down with his arm under his head and glancing up at the ceiling. 

“H-hey Erin,” you mutter out, nervousness building up in your stomach. Why did she want to talk to you? Why did Lance even drive all the way here? How did he even know where your dorm room was. 

Not even a second after you speak she is talking to you. “Hello, darling. You do take long showers, Lance was waiting for ten minutes before you stepped out,” she chuckled and you forced one out too, glaring at Lance who was now snooping through your stuff. “How are you? You didn’t say goodbye the other day.” 

“Yeah, I really had to get back for university, didn’t have time to say goodbye to anyone.” You sighed out and she hummed in agreement, “did- did you want me to pass you back to Lance?” You hoped the answer would be, ‘yes’ because talking on the phone to her was giving you anxiety. 

“Actually, dear, could you put me on loudspeaker? I want to ask you and Lance something.” You raised an eyebrow but obliged, turning the loudspeaker on, Lance stepped beside you and cocked an eyebrow of interest at the phone also. “So, I’m having my annual Tucker holiday and I wanted you both to come along.” 

Lance grabs the phone from your hands. “Nah, mother that won’t work. I’m busy training for the damn Olympics, I can’t take a holiday. Y/N she's got important exams to take, so important and I don’t want her failing them!” Lance strictly tells her over the phone, you cross your arms and nod at what he is saying- despite the fact she can’t see you. 

“No discussions. I’ve already talked with your coach, he told me you can spare a week with me. Plus, Y/N will have time to study on the holiday too, I’m not taking no for an answer.” She hangs up before Lance can argue anymore, he groans with frustration, back to you. 

You stand in silence for a few minutes, mind reeling at what is happening, again. You begin to shake your head, “You have to tell her.” Is all you can say, Lance finally turns and looks at you. “I can’t, not again, not for a week either. You’ll have to tell her the truth or say we broke up anything. I’m not doing this.” 

“Let’s just talk about this first,” Lance seethes, exhaling slowly from his nose. “This could be a good opportunity, my mother wouldn’t believe me if I said we broke up. We… -” 

“Go on the holiday, break up on the holiday.” You cut him off and Lance raises his eyebrows. “You don’t want to go, right? Must be a drag hanging with people you hate. So, we break up when there. I leave because no point in staying and then you leave because you don’t want to bring the holiday down. Then everything is ended, settled and down.” Lance frowns but ends up nodding in agreement. 

He shrugs his shoulders slightly, crossing his arms. “That’s where I was going with it anyway, you just interrupted me.” You sighed and nodded, rolling your eyes at his ridiculous behaviour towards you. 


End file.
